


Der Struwwelpeter

by kinky_kneazle



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-30
Updated: 2010-01-30
Packaged: 2017-10-06 20:01:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinky_kneazle/pseuds/kinky_kneazle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Regulus decides to finally stop running and await his punishment for betraying the Dark Lord.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Der Struwwelpeter

**Author's Note:**

> With much love to Nocturnali for the beta. Written for the [Inter-species Relationship Fest](http://www.livejournal.com/community/by_the_fountain/11865.html#cutid1) on LJ. Inspired by a very disturbing German children's book.

Regulus' father's mother was German. When he and Sirius were young she would gather them on the couch and read to them from _Der Struwwelpeter_. It was a treatise on life, a guide explaining that every bad decision had consequences.

It had given him nightmares.

There was the monstrous looking child on the cover, who had refused to groom. Inside a little girl who played with matches caught alight and her cats cried over her ashes. A fussy eater wasted away to nothing and a lazy hunter was shot while sleeping by the rabbits he was meant to hunt.

Despite the nightmares the book was a treasured possession, the only thing he had left of his beloved _Oma_. It had stayed with him and even when he had packed his bags to run he had placed the now battered book carefully into his backpack.

He sat on the cliffs where he had made his one great rebellion and knew he had run as far as he could. They always caught up, always found him, and it was time to make a stand.

He opened the book to the worst story, the one that had made him wake screaming at night.

As a five year old he had heard the story of Friedrich and seen only his big brother. Friedrich was rude, always disobeying, picking on people. When Friedrich's dog sat at the table he always imagined the dog was eating the boy, and had had nightmares of horrific werewolves eating Sirius at night.

Sometimes the eyes of an adult made everything twist. The images and the few words he understood made him suddenly think that the dog was only eating Friedrich's dinner, not eating Friedrich.

His adult eyes also told him that it wasn't Sirius that was the bad boy about to be punished. It was he, Regulus, who had always done as he was told, that had turned out to be the evil one.

A footstep echoed behind him but he didn't turn around; he didn't want to know which of the men he'd called friend had come to kill him on a madman's orders.

The blow he expected never came; someone sat beside him instead.

"Regulus." The gravelly voice was soft, but sent shivers up his spine.

"Fenrir." The Dark Lord's maddest.

"Reading your prayers before you die?"

"It's actually a book of morals." He handed it over. Even if Fenrir destroyed the book, he would destroy Regulus shortly after, so it wouldn't really matter.

"_Der Struwwelpeter._" Fenrir pronounced it perfectly.

"You're German?"

"_Ja_. I wasn't born a Greyback you know." He grinned, baring sharpened teeth and Regulus looked back quickly at the sun setting over the ocean. "No, I was born Schultz. A far too common name for someone like me."

"You don't have an accent."

"No. My parents brought me here after my first change. I was very young. Patting the wrong bloody dog. Stupid, yes? But it made me powerful. Turned me into more than I was. Imagine how my life would have been without it: a boring waste." The sunlight reflecting in his eyes gave them a mad glint. Or maybe they'd always been like that. Regulus had always tried to avoid meeting them before now. "Ah, I apologise Regulus. This time of month I am always nostalgic."

Regulus looked to the sky and saw the moon, faint in the light, but clearly full, hanging in the sky.

"It's nice to think about our childhoods at times like these. Favourite books, favourite toys, favourite people. Or would you rather sit silently and let the memories of your life drift past?"

"There's too much I don't want to remember."

"Yes. Betraying the Dark Lord. It is good you realise the mistake, but it will not save you."

"I meant joining him in the first place." It was easy to be brave when he knew he was going to die anyway.

"So you're brave now?" Fenrir echoed his thoughts. "Will you be brave when the time comes? Once it is fully dark I will change and you will die."

The sun had set, but the sky was still light. Regulus figured he had about thirty minutes until the sky was dark enough to force the change. Thirty minutes left to live, and he was sitting with his future murderer, conversing in a very civil manner.

"May I have my book back?"

"A condemned mans last request?"

Regulus didn't answer, but Fenrir passed the book over all the same. He flipped the pages until he found the story of Friedrich again.

"It's not the most horrid story." Fenrir said looking over his shoulder.

"When I was little I thought the dog was eating the boy. I was afraid it would happen to my brother."

"And now you're here waiting to be eaten by a member of the canine family. How amusing." The ocean had turned black and the sky was turning dark and Regulus knew his time was almost over. "You will run, won't you?"

"What?"

"The wolf likes to hunt. It's more fun if you run."

Regulus resolved then to stand firm and face death as a man; there were so few parts of his life that he had faced as one. When the moon was finally bright, the sky inky darkness around it, Fenrir began to twitch. Regulus stood and watched muscles expand, heard bones crack, faced the monster taking shape in front of him.

The wolf tilted its head and howled. Long and low, it made every hair on his body stand on end. Then it turned to look at him and growled.

Regulus turned and ran, fear driving him; the primal instinct didn't even allow him to apparate. He heard heavy steps behind him, then felt hot breaths against his neck.

_This is what happens to the naughty ones,_ was the last thought to run through his head.

Then there was only the black.

 

Fenrir woke, blood on his lips and covering his hands. He grinned. Then he saw the book lying only a few feet away from him. He picked it up. Some memories needed to be preserved.


End file.
